


Bird Song

by staringatstars



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Time Travel, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 06:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: Klaus knows when it's time to let the ghosts go.He holds on.





	Bird Song

Number Five once said that time traveling felt like being squeezed through a small space. Well, he hadn’t said that to Klaus, but Vanya had mentioned him saying something like that after Klaus had experienced the sensation for himself a grand total of three times - which was three times more than anyone should ever have to - and he believed her. 

Except this time, the last time, he hadn’t been pushed through a narrow space, but rubbed against a cheese grater so he could be shoved into a container too small to fit all of his baggage. It was the same for all of them, including Vanya, though she probably had it the worst. 

Because when Vanya woke up in the mansion she’d torn down, with all of her siblings and Hargreeves staring down at her, the first thing she did was start screaming. 

Her screams increased in pitch when Hargreeves shook her. Vibrations in the air sank through their skin, synchronizing with the beating of their hearts, and reached outwards, making the walls and windows tremble. Dust rained down from the ceiling, their beams beginning to groan under the strain. Hargreeves shouted at Grace to get them all outside while he dealt with Vanya, and he dragged her away by the arms, ignoring her attempts to free herself. Before he could get far, Klaus jumped on her legs, clutching on to them for dear life, and Ben did the same. It evened the playing ground. Not even Hargreeves could manhandle the three of them once. 

Allison slipped her hand into Vanya’s pocket, lifting her face to fix their adoptive father with a steely mask of determination, her jaw set with defiance. Though the statement was unspoken, it came out loud and clear - Hargreeves was no longer in control. 

He turned a cold gaze on Luther, “If you don’t get your siblings out of here this instant, the academy will fall and they will all die. Is that an outcome you are willing to accept, Number One?” 

It wasn’t. 

Slowly, Luther roused himself, as if waking from a long slumber, and wrapped his arms around Allison, who bucked and shouted and clawed at him to let go. He picked her up, yanking her fingers from Vanya’s pocket and, enduring her blows and her desperate threats, carried her outside. Diego followed suit, his expression one of regret. Even as he wrangled Ben off of Vanya’s leg, the glass windows began to shatter, their fragments breaking into even smaller pieces when they came crashing to the floor. 

Under Ben’s loud protests and the deafening noise, Klaus thought he heard Diego whisper, “I’m sorry, Vanya. I don’t think I can lose him again.” And when Ben was gone, that left no one else except Klaus to defend Number Seven from the monster. 

By now, Vanya’s screams had begun to quiet. She wasn’t as powerful as a child, and between nearly killing Allison, causing the apocalypse, and all the trauma that came with time travel, she was starting to wear down. The academy wasn’t coming down today, and Hargreeves knew it. He’d just wanted the others out of the way.

“Number Four,” Klaus gulped upon being addressed with such a cold, stern tone. After spending an entire year with a man who loved him, he’d become accustomed to hearing his name spoken warmly, kindly. Dave had always been kind, “you will cease this foolishness at once, or you will resume your training in the crypt.” It was like he’d been stabbed in the heart with an ice pick. His entire body froze, his arms going numb, and in that split second, Hargreeves tore Vanya away from him, the little girl now sobbing openly as he picked her up and carried her down to the soundproof cell he’d built just for her.

Klaus stared with unseeing eyes at his hands, his mind a blank, grey space. 

The start of an aborted cry rang out, racing through him. The walls stilled. The floor stabilized. Everything returned to normal. And when Grace deemed the house safe enough for the other children to return, it was to find Klaus sitting underneath the chandelier at the base of the stairs, his face in his hands, and wood dust coating his hair.

 

“He’ll help her,” Luther insisted to all of them at dinner. “He’ll fix her. He’ll fix everything, you’ll see.” Even though the group of them were children in body only, there was something so earnestly hopeful, so unbearably naive about the way he looked at their secluded little world inside the academy. Even before Hargreeve’s serum altered his body past recognition, Luther’s outside hadn’t reflected his inside. Inside, he’d never really grown out of being the boy who always wanted to make their father proud. Had their father been someone else, that might not have been a bad thing.

“Like he helped her last time?” Diego glared at him from across the table, his knife buried in his mashed potatoes. “Like _you_ did?”

It was strange to see him so young and still so angry. Klaus didn’t remember him being this angry when they were kids. Seeing his features contorted with contempt and rage now felt almost like sacrilege, like defiling a memory. 

Throughout the duration of their argument, Allison remained eerily quiet, her eyes drifting occasionally to the door. She’d never gotten the chance to tell them why Vanya had slit her throat, and when she was bleeding out on the ground in front of them, it hadn’t mattered, but there was only one way they could all conveniently forget Vanya had powers, and it was all wrapped up with Hargreeves and the soundproof cell in the basement. 

Klaus didn’t blame her for not fighting back. They were kids. Kids trained not to think or question. Vanya had fought and look where that got her. 

But they weren’t kids, anymore. And they weren’t alone. 

So why were they still letting dear old Dad boss them around? 

“Don’t even think about it.” Klaus snapped to attention, twisting to face Luther with retorts crashing against his lips, except Luther wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Ben. 

And Ben stared back, challenging. “Do you know what I learned while I was dead? You don’t deserve to be Number One.” That ratcheted up the tension in an instant. Luther tried to pose and posture, looming over the table like he could scare Ben into submission the way he could when they were children, but Ben had seen scarier things than him in the years he’d spent as a ghost, and they both knew who would win if it came down to a fight. 

In the end, it always came down to numbers and power struggles, which was exactly why they could never work together. More than likely, that was exactly why they'd had done. Hargreeves had been pulling divide and conquer tactics on his adopted children since they learned how to count.

The silverware and dishes rattled when Klaus suddenly slammed his hands down on the table. Milk sloshed over the edges of their bowls, decorating the table with white puddles that trickled onto the floor. “Who cares? Who cares what number we are?” Looking earnestly at each of his siblings, he insisted with outstretched arms, “We have real names now.” He shifted in his seat to hold out an open palm to Ben, “My name is Klaus. What’s yours?”

Ben took one look at the offered handshake before returning it with a firm grip, a grin spreading across his face. “Mine’s Ben.”

A quiet voice from close to the head of the table muttered, “Allison.” She pretended not to notice Luther trying to get her attention, keeping her expression resolute, her gaze focused unwaveringly on Ben and Klaus. 

“Diego.” He ruefully shook his head. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourselves killed. Or the rest of the world, for that matter.”

That left only Number Five to either side with them or not. Klaus was fairly sure a mind manipulator and a kid whose body functioned as a portal for eldritch abominations would be more than enough, though it would be nice to have a time traveler on their side, just in case. After thinking it over for a minute, Five sighed. “My name is Five.” Klaus’ heart plummeted, but before it could reach his shoes, the ex-time traveling assassin held up a hand. “I’m not saying I don’t agree with you. My name’s been Five for my entire life, and I’m used to it… but if any of you can think of a better one, I’ll consider it.” 

Delighted, Klaus beamed at him. Diego leaned over to clap Five on the shoulder, unfazed even when he was shrugged off. 

Luther rose from his seat, “You guys can’t actually be serious,” and was ignored. They weren’t going to try to convince him to join in on their rescue mission, but if he wanted to tag along, he was more than welcome to. The main thing that he had to understand, and one look at Allison made clear, was that his strength and his number weren’t going to be enough to stop them anymore

Feeling bolder and braver than he ever had when he actually was a child, Klaus surveyed his team with a satisfied smirk. “Let’s go save our sister.”

Right when he was about to lead them out of the kitchen, however, the door swung open to reveal Reginald Hargreeves in a newly cleaned and pressed gray suit. He looked down his nose at the six of them out of their seats, their unfinished meals growing cold on the table, then glanced at Grace, who continued to stare ahead with a bland, guileless smile. “I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.” Klaus had forgotten how remote and untouchable he’d seemed when they were growing up. It was starting to come back to him. “Number Seven is feeling under the weather and will be taking the rest of the day to recuperate her strength. The rest of you will carry on with your studies as usual.”

He made sure they returned to their seats, watched them eat their breakfast, then stepped out, leaving Luther to enforce his will by begging that they delay their plans of rescue until tomorrow. After all, maybe Hargreeves wasn’t lying. Maybe Vanya really was sick. 

And maybe the moon was made of cheese.

 

Allison didn’t fall asleep that night. 

Instead, she spent hours sitting up in bed, her eyes locked on her bedroom door, waiting for Hargreeves to summon her. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of her fearful stare in her vanity mirror, until finally she couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore and crawled out of bed to throw a blanket over it. Even when splashes of color painted the horizon, she stayed rigid and alert, her thin fingers gripping the sheets pulled up to her chin.

Waiting, waiting, waiting for the monster to come.

 

Two days passed without any word from Vanya. Their father said she wasn’t feeling well, that he was keeping them from her so that they wouldn’t interrupt her rest, but Klaus knew almost everything their father told them was a lie, and so did the rest of his siblings. The problem was how much they wanted to believe Hargreeves. It was what they’d always done.

And look where that blind faith had gotten them. 

Vanya wasn’t ill. She was angry, scared, hurt, and alone, but not sick. 

It came to the point where Klaus couldn’t take it anymore. “Aren’t we supposed to be heroes?” He demanded when they were gathered around the table for lunch. Even though Grace was present, as she always was, she continued smiling placidly, pretending not to hear. He lowered his voice, anyway. “Heroes help people. So why aren’t we helping her?”

Luther frowned. “Dad said she’s sick and I believe him. After all, we saw it ourselves. She _is_ sick.”

Klaus did his best convey without words that if Number One said anything like that again, he was going to throw a chair at his pretty boyish face. “Just because she’s having trouble controlling her powers, you think she’s a lost cause? Boy, I’m sure glad you never tried to ‘help’ me, Luther. From the sounds of it, you’d lock me up in a padded room and throw away the key.”

“That’s not fair! Are you forgetting how she nearly killed Allison?” Klaus flinched. He wasn’t soon going to soon forget the sight of Allison laying sprawled out on the floor, a crimson gash opened up in her neck. 

Before Luther could continue, Allison stood up, “That was my fault. We got into a fight. She was spiraling and I was going to…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “She was only protecting herself. She didn’t mean to hurt me.” 

Luther furrowed his brow. Even Diego’s features clouded with doubt. This in spite of the fact that none of them were there when Vanya lashed out. With her unable to give her side of the story, all they had to go on was Allison’s word, but since Allison’s word resolved Vanya, no one was listening. 

There was only one way all of them could have forgotten Vanya had powers, including Vanya herself, and everyone knew it. 

Eventually Hargreeves walked in, told them all that Vanya was still feeling ill, then tasked Grace with getting them ready for training. By the end of the day, their young bodies were all so exhausted that any thoughts of rescue fled their minds the moment their heads hit their pillows. 

The same was not true for Klaus, however. He remained curled under the covers, tucking his knees against his chest, hands clapped against his ears in an attempt to muffle the screams of the dead vying for his attention. 

A high-pitched shriek nearly fled his lips when a pair of uncalloused fingers began prying his palms from his head. Panicking, he begged frantically for whoever was in his room to let him shut the sounds out. “Please,” he sobbed pathetically, clawing blindly at the arms keeping him subdued, “I’ll go crazy if this keeps up. They won’t be quiet. They won’t leave me alone.”

“Then make them, Klaus,” he heard Ben say fervently. “The dead may outnumber you, but you’ve got an advantage they’ll never have.” He grabbed Klaus’ hand before Klaus could pull away, pressing it against his chest. With the steady thump of a strong, beating heart resonating beneath his fingertips, Klaus felt his harried lungs and racing heart begin to slow. Briefly closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Ben’s shoulder, then let loose a heavy exhale through gritted teeth. Ben gave him a minute. When Klaus gathered the strength to look up, he asked quietly, “Do you understand now? You’re alive. That makes you stronger than they’ll ever be.” Something akin to pride flashed across his features. “You’ve already learned how to make them stop. Listen to them. Stop trying to shut them out. Stop being afraid. And if any of them starts getting mouthy,” for the briefest of moments, something slithered under his flesh, making his stomach swell, as he finished with a good-humored wink, “just tell them I have monsters under my skin, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

Blinking away the tears clinging to his lashes, Klaus gave in to the urge to laugh. Part of him couldn’t help thinking how absurd they were, what with them being full-fledged adults still clinging together for comfort from things that went bump in the night. He could have asked Ben why he wasn’t sleeping in his room, but it would have been a waste of precious breath. After all, wasn’t the answer obvious? 

Neither one of them was used to being alone, anymore. “I missed you too, Jiminy Cricket.”

 

For the next hour, Klaus spoke to the ghosts one by one. It was just like when Hazel and Cha Cha had him tied up in that disgusting motel room, except this time Klaus had every opportunity to cut and run. 

He chose not to. 

With Ben giving his hand the occasional squeeze for comfort, he learned about their regrets, the endless laundry list of unfinished business that kept them grounded. Frantically, he scribbled out names and addresses on a notepad, descriptions of killers and long lost family that would probably go ignored - no one listened to a ten-year-old claiming he could talk to ghosts - but maybe the telling was enough. 

Maybe Ben was right. Maybe all they’d ever wanted was someone who would listen. 

Eventually, the nannies with twisted necks and glass shards embedded in their arms lost interest. They weren’t angry at Vanya, per se. Most of them understood that a toddler with powers linked to their emotions was a recipe for disaster. Even so, their collective fate enraged them. Locked behind the walls of a gloomy mansion while their families mourned their losses without ever truly knowing what happened to them. Hargreeves had always known how to manipulate the system with money, how to keep the right people quiet. They hated the father for erasing their deaths more than they’d ever hated his daughter for causing them. 

Once they were finally alone, Klaus quickly fell asleep, exhausted by his efforts to placate the spirits. The room was stuffed with the sound of his snores when he was suddenly roused by the insistent digging of Ben’s elbow into his side. 

“What is it?” He yawned, trying in vain to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Unless it’s the apocalypse, bud, I suggest you get some shuteye and keep your elbows to your-”

“Look behind you.” 

That did the trick. Klaus was wide awake now. 

He spun around to see what horrific abomination could possibly spook Number Six and saw instead a little girl standing on the corner, her long, brown hair hanging past her waist. If it weren’t for the Umbrella Academy uniform she wore, Klaus might have accidentally taken her for another ghost. Her round, pale face was devoid of pigment, with an almost ghoulish luminescence in the moonlight. The knot of her tie was loosened, making it lie crinkled and crooked on her shirt, and her collar was raised up to her chin, blocking her neck from sight. 

Even so, it was all Klaus could do not to jump out of his bed and hug her. With her arms wrapped around her sides like she was trying to hold a shattering vase together, she tried to explain, “I felt like I should thank you guys. For, you know,” her hands moved in a vague gesture, “saving the world,” then she paused to take a deep, fortifying breath, “from me.”

Ben’s expression softened. “We came back to save you, too, Vanya.” She offered them a fond, tentative smile, before giving a slight shake of her head. 

“Of course we did.” Scrambling over the covers and pillows to plant his hands on the edge of the mattress, Klaus chimed in, “You’re our sister. We love you.” 

For a moment, Vanya appeared honestly touched. Her lower lip trembled, her eyes taking on a wet sheen in the moonlight, and there was nothing Klaus would have liked more to do than race across the floor and throw himself at her, wrap himself around her in a hug that somehow encompassed all the love and care and attention she deserved. He reached out to her, sensing somehow that the space between was forbidden to him. All he could see below the bed was a swirling black mass that would suck him in and swallow him whole. Vanya outstretched a trembling hand, her feet rooted to the ground. 

Even though his instincts screamed at him to stay on the bed, Klaus leaned forward, wanting to chase her. Ben gripped him by the back of his shirt. 

Vanya averted her face, throwing shadows over her features. “I still hear the sounds,” she whispered. “They’re never quiet now.” A cloud passed in front of the moon, throwing them into pitch black darkness. By the time the wind carried it forward, the spot in the corner where Vanya had stood was empty.

Neither of the boys heard the door fall shut, despite it being one of those creaky old house doors that responded to movement with noisy complaint, but Klaus didn’t care. Vanya had come to talk to them - that was huge! But while he babbled excitedly about all the things they could do together once they were adults again, Ben remained quiet.

 

“I saw Vanya last night.” Klaus blurted at breakfast, unable to hold in the good news. 

Grace had cooked a magnificent spread for them consisting of scrambled eggs, bacon, oatmeal, orange juice, and hot cocoa. There were definite perks to living with a billionaire, even if the price didn’t always add up. Since Klaus was feeling particularly good that morning, he piled onto his plate a little of everything. 

Hargreeves paused in the middle of taking another bite of oatmeal. He set the spoon down. “Impossible. She has been resting this entire time.” Ben narrowed his eyes while at the same time Allison sank further down into her seat. Ever since the day before, she’d been struggling to stay awake. The bruises under her eyes were getting worse with each passing night. “However, if all of you perform admirably during your mission today, you will be afforded the chance to visit.” He pushed his chair back as he rose, leaving his dish and silverware for Grace to clear, then fixed his monocle so that it sat perfectly under his brow. “Think of it as an incentive for you to hone your abilities if you will, Number Four.” 

Klaus smiled blandly at his plate, thinking, _The only thing you’re good for a life full of trauma and a decent shave, old man._

If only he were brave enough to say it out loud. 

Once their father was out of earshot, Luther hissed, “You really will say anything for attention, won’t you?”

Before Klaus could think of a retort, Ben shot to his feet. “That’s it! I am tired of you always putting him down.” 

While they went at each other, which Klaus thought was immensely satisfying, Diego scooted his chair closer to Allison. “There’s just one thing I don’t get.”

She frowned at him, “You sure it’s just one?”

Diego chose to pretend he hadn’t heard that. “If what Dad says is true,” Allison made a harsh choking noise, torn between a laugh and sob, “Vanya’s been trapped down there in that cell since we got here. Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the entrance to the basement, but Grace hasn’t gone down there with food or water once. Not even those pills she used to take.” The blood drained from Allison’s face. “They’re not feeding her. They’re not sedating her. Aren’t you the least bit curious what they’re actually doing?” 

Breaking from his fight with Ben, Luther turned on them. “You’re sick, Diego. Dad’s not some monster. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do whatever it is you’re implying.” 

At this point Five, who’d been quiet this entire time, joined the conversation for the first and final time, “Because leading kids to their deaths is such a stretch for him.” Ben self-consciously rubbed his throat, shifting awkwardly to avoid meeting the Boy’s unerring gaze head on. 

No one else could think of anything to say after that.

 

Something strange happened on their next mission. 

Klaus was too distracted to keep his head in the game when they were taking down the bank robbers. He zigged when he should have zagged, nearly getting nailed by a bullet with his name on it. Though he managed to avoid anything fatal, the resulting injury caused him to stumble as he clutched at the grazed calf. 

It burned like he’d been cut by fire, and he winced, allowing the loudest robber with the beard to snatch him up by his collar and press the barrel of his revolver between his eyes. Klaus could hear his heart pounding, the blood moving through his veins. He thought it was because he was about to die, but then the robber looked around wildly, “What’s going on?” He jammed the gun against Klaus’ forehead, making him see stars. “Are you doing this, freak?!”

The alarm’s shrieking bells kept rising in volume, becoming ear-splittingly loud, and the sounds seemed to coalesce into a concentrated point - between the robber and Klaus. Then, like a bomb going off, it expanded, blowing the robber away. It lifted him off his feet, propelling him back until the wall put an abrupt and violent stop to his momentum. 

Judging by the crack they heard when his neck snapped backward, the children realized quickly that he wasn’t going to be getting up. With the rest of the hostage-takers already incapacitated, the day was saved and they could finally relax. 

When Klaus went to go check on Ben, Ben stared past time, his jaw hanging agape. Unsettled, Klaus peered over his shoulder, then twisted completely around, gesturing wildly to the others, “There she is! You see her, right? You have to, she’s right there!!” The others weren’t looking at Vanya, though. They were all looking at him. Familiar looks. Ones of exasperation, guilt, and pity. “Come on, guys, I’m not making this up. For once, just believe me. Trust me. Vanya is here.” 

Ben clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I believe you. I see her, too.” There was something in the way he said that made the hairs on the back of Klaus’ neck rise. He shook off Ben’s head, pleading silently for Vanya to say something - anything - that would explain what was going on. 

It was only when she started to cry that he realized he’d known all along.

She shook her head miserably, “I’m sorry, Klaus,” and her collar flaps fell, revealing the rows of finger-shaped bruises wrapped around her neck. 

Even though the others were speaking all at once, he didn’t care. Vanya needed someone to listen. It was all she’d ever needed. 

Well... that and one other thing. 

Klaus thought back to when Ben punched him in the face, to the single-minded focus he’d had when he’d made him corporeal in the theater, and concentrated on Vanya. She watched him silently, growing nervous. She probably didn’t remember seeing Ben in action during her concert. With his fists glowing blue, Klaus carefully approached her, then when he was within about a foot of distance, he threw his arms around her.

She gasped with surprise. “How are you-”

“Did Hargreeves do this?” He asked into her hair, hiding his mouth so no one else would see. It would have been more effective if Vanya weren’t transparent but Klaus was still learning how to best utilize his powers after they’d effectively atrophied over years of disuse. 

“I don’t think he meant to.” Vanya slipped her hands around his back. He could feel her trembling. “What are you going to do?”

“Tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m _not_ going to kill him. And I’m not going to let Ben kill him, either.” A huff from behind him told Klaus he might have to run that one by Ben again, but for now, it was going to have to go on his to-do list. “Dad doesn’t get to hurt you, anymore.”


End file.
